


Love in Kadara Port

by RJS



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Character(s) of Color, Custom Female Ryder | Sara, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Flirting, Friendship/Love, Reyes Vidal - Freeform, Slow Romance, mass effect andromeda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJS/pseuds/RJS
Summary: This fic is going to be about the relationship that grows between my Ryder and Reyes, because I always felt weird romancing Jaal/Liam but then when it came time to go to Kadara I couldn't help but flirt with Reyes. I take some liberties with canon eventually because I think Bioware could have done a much better job with the Reyes romance. So enjoy!





	Love in Kadara Port

I leaned against the cold metal of the bar top and let the music of the club pulse through her veins. Earlier in the night the club had been full of exiles and Collective hopefuls who had been more than willing to sheathe their blasters in exchange for a good time.

  
It was late now, or early more like it. My omni-tool proclaimed it close to 3:00 a.m. some time ago, and the club was clearing out. Drunken Salarians staggered up the stairs and out the doors. A group of Asari cheering loudly behind them, their party clearly far from over.

  
I bit my lip and scanned the upper floor again. My Resistance contact was beyond late by now, but I didn’t want to leave. Wouldn’t, in fact, until Umi demanded it of me. Months of hard work in the freezing cold of Voeld and the dangerous jungles on Havarl had finally given me the grudging respect of Evfra. I refused to squander this lead, even if the contact couldn’t read a clock.

  
Sighing, and girding myself for another couple hours in the dark club, I turned to order another drink from Umi.

  
A Krogan, who had been previously sitting at the bar for so long it might as well have been his home, let out a huge breath and stood. Krogan were huge. I tilted my head up to stare at the helmet of the Krogan intent on leaving the bar. I decided that my order could wait.

  
“Hey!” Umi shouted, putting down the glass she was drying.

  
I looked at the affront and rage glittering in Umi’s eyes and the shrinking back of the Krogan as he moved towards the exit. I slowly moved my hand to the pistol strapped to my hip. Again taking in the breadth of the Krogan’s frame, I knew I didn’t want this to end ugly. Training with Drack was one thing; the grizzly old bastard liked me. I knew there was no such thing in keeping this stranger from pulling his punches.

  
But the Asari had kept me company tonight, and I liked her. So, I would simply be ready.

  
“Piss off,” The Krogan slurred with a dismissive wave of his massive hand.

  
Discreetly, I checked the charge on my weapon, knowing that response would not go over well with the kind but short tempered Asari.

  
“You order. You pay,” Umi gritted out between clenched teeth.

  
“I said-” The Krogan began, finally turning around to face Umi.

  
Before he finished the sentence, Umi pulled a blade from God only knew where and slammed it into the metal counter so quick and with such force, it went through it like butter. The Krogan and I stared at the knife, the hilt still wobbling from the force of Umi’s rage. After a brief staring contest, the Krogan authorized the transfer of credits via his omni-tool, I took my hand off the blaster, and Umi went back to cleaning glasses.

  
So maybe, I didn’t need that drink. I leaned against the counter and rested my elbows on its cool surface. Clasping my hands, I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. No reason for Umi to shove a knife in my direction, no sir.

  
So intent was I on fading into the background, I didn’t notice him walk up to me.

  
“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” His voice moved through me like whiskey on a cold night, sending up a chill and warming me all at once.

  
I looked up into warm brown eyes that glinted with mirth although he wasn’t smiling. He gestured at Umi, who was by our side in seconds with a bottle and two newly cleaned glasses. A little thrown off by her eager-to-please manner, I cocked an eyebrow in silent question. Her response was to wink and fill our glasses before slipping away. Well, then.

  
With a nod at Umi’s retreating figure, the man picked up the glasses and held one out to me. I hesitated, taking a moment to study him.

  
He had wavy black hair, cropped close to his scalp on the sides, but grew playfully long at the top of his head. He wore no distinguishing armor, just a grey and black jumpsuit. He could be Collective or exile, but I was holding out hope I’d just met my contact.

  
“I could use a free drink,” I admitted truthfully, and took the cool glass from his hand. He didn’t wear gloved and our fingers brushed against each other. His skin was rough but warm, and I was glad for the distraction as I raised the glass to my lips to take a long swallow.

  
“Shena,” He said, after taking a swig of his own. Then he grinned and he went instantly from serious looking soldier to a mischievous imp. Oh his face was made for a smile, I noted. The lines around his mouth and eyes attested as much.

  
“But call me Reyes, I don’t care much for code names,” He continued, putting his glass on the counter.

  
I did the same, and crossed my arms over my chest. I’d been waiting all night to get down to business.

  
“Ryder,” I began to introduce myself then paused “But call me Sienna.”

  
‘Ryder’ had been my father’s designation. And everyone I’d come across had been painfully disappointed to meet ‘Ryder’ only to find out that instead of an experienced and charismatic expert in his field, a woman in her early twenties with brightly colored hair and a tattoo on her cheek. So here, on Kadara, with Reyes I wanted to just be Sienna.

  
“Sienna,” He rolled my name on his tongue, his accent bringing new life to the syllables I’d known my whole life.

  
“I do…sensitive work for the Resistance. They pay me for information, among other things. And you are in the market for information, are you not?” He asked.

  
So he was a smuggler, as well as in information broker. Not to mention part of the Angaran resistance. A jack-of-all trades it seemed.

  
“I am,” I acknowledged. He straightened and moved over toward the window, away from, I assumed, the prying eyes and ears of the lingering drunks at the bar. I followed.  
Kadara was a beautiful planet, in an apathetic, casual way. I watched the mountains loom in the distance against the early morning sky, and knew that somewhere someone was drowning in a lake of fire. Or falling to their death off those sharp cliffs. Or being knifed by an exiled exile. Full of violence, this place was but Kadara didn’t care. Its suns rose and they set accompanied by the deepest purples and pinks and it stole your breath.

  
“Your man, Vehn Tarev, was arrested by Sloane. She heads the Outcasts. She’d heard what went down with the Moshae.” He began, telling me what I already knew.  
Then he surprised me by saying “The people are calling for his execution, and Sloane, being a woman of the people…” He trailed off leaving me to draw my own conclusions.

  
This wasn’t good. I wasn’t surprised the bloodthirsty citizens of Kadara were clamoring for an execution; this had been an Angaran settlement long before the exiles came around. But Sloane had been head of security on the Nexus before the mutiny. Surely, she of all people knew the power of a political prisoner.

  
“She’s a criminal,” I corrected, not bothering to hide the disgust in my voice. Sloane ran Kadara Port, or at least wanted everyone to think she did. Either way, since landing here I’d seen people looting corpses, and stabbings in the middle of the market.

  
“She won’t give up Tarev easily. With the Collective gaining ground on Kadara, Sloane needs support and mounting the Angara’s head on a pike would give her that,” Reyes pointed out.

  
He was right, of course. But Tarev was my only lead on the Archon, and I wasn’t going to let him slip through my fingers.

  
“I don’t need permission,” I told him “I’ll be taking Tarev with me when I leave Kadara, one way or another.”

  
He grinned and leaned close to me “We’re gonna be friends, you and I” He smelled like cinnamon and his promise slid over my skin like silk. I didn’t think I’d mind being his friend.

  
“Y’know,” He continued “There might be another way to get to Tarev”

  
I thought he was going to finish his thought, but he turned, and studied me quietly for a minute. I stared back, waiting.

  
Finally, he said “You work Sloane, and I’ll talk to the Resistance” with a decisive nod.

  
He turned to go and, a little confused I watched him get halfway to the door until I thought to call out “How do I contact you if things go wrong?”

  
He turned, winked, and walked out into the night. With a frown, I made to follow him, to demand answers, but Umi’s voice stopped me.

  
“Hey! You gotta pay,” She called out.

  
“Sorry,” I pulled out my omni-tool to transfer the funds for my (our now) ‘free’ drink “Keep the change,” I told her, not bothering to price out the exact cost plus tip. Fifty credits should do it.

  
By then Reyes had left, the door swinging closed. I rushed to it, hoping to catch him but when I entered the cool air of the marketplace, he was nowhere to be found.

  
“Oh,” I breathed. Well, then. I smiled and shrugged out of my jacket and headed back to the Tempest. I needed at least four hours of sleep before I confronted the queen of the exiles.


End file.
